Pandora's Gift
by denise1
Summary: Hammond thinks


Pandora's Gift

By

Denise

It's not often that I get to do this. And it's even better that I get to trump the President. It's not that it's rare for people in my command to do good, in all my years I've been lucky enough to have some damned fine officers serve under me. And these people, the ones I never thought I'd command for so long, have been some of the best.

I have to admit, the first time I met Jack O'Neill, I was tempted to either toss him out on his ear or lock him in a cell until he sobered up, figuring that no one talked to a general like that unless they were well and truly smashed.

What I didn't realize at the time was that irreverence is Jack's middle name. We've reached an understanding in the last year. He does what I need him to do, and I don't get in his face and worry about how he does it. Ultimately it's Jack's unique ability to think outside the box that's saved this planet more than once. And it's that adaptability that's a requirement to deal with all the odd things the Stargate brings us.

Jack doesn't have the monopoly on adaptability; Carter's got a good dose of it herself. I've seen her deal with and survive things that I know I couldn't handle.

I've always known she was resilient, I knew the day of her mother's funeral that she had a backbone of steel. It wasn't until I served with her that I realized that she had a will to match. I hope I haven't made a mistake by inviting Jacob to the reception. She doesn't know it, but Jake's been bugging me for the better part of the last year wanting to know what she's working on.

Just the simple fact that she didn't even tell him that she'd been assigned to Cheyenne Mountain was enough to make me meddle a bit and see if I could do a little bridge mending between my best friend and one of my best officers. I don't know exactly what happened in DC, but something did. I need to call Jake and find out. That can wait. Right now I have more important things to do.

You know, I really should be annoyed at them. They did hijack the gate, assault their fellow officers and blatantly disobey orders. They should be in the brig awaiting a court-martial then a dishonorable discharge.  I'm so glad they're not.

I wonder if they have any idea how much fast-talking I did in the beginning? How many people in Washington that are royally pissed that instead of getting clapped in irons, they get matching medals and the gratitude of a President, not to mention that their little escapade pretty much makes Carter's promotion a shoe in.

Somehow, I just can't stay angry with them. This irreverent colonel, his way too smart captain and the rest of their team saved us from ourselves. And they did it with uncommon flair and valor.

Which is why, in an odd way, I'm glad the President didn't get to do this. If I have to suffer through the dark days, I should at least get some of the perks too. Carter and O'Neill are standing at attention in the briefing room and I fight to keep a serious look on my face. I wonder if Carter knows that I still remember meeting her for the first time. When she was about four and in pig tails.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, Captain Samantha Carter, you have distinguished yourself by heroism involving voluntary risk of life. Against impossible odds, with only the help of your team members Teal'c and Dr  
Daniel Jackson, you destroyed both Goa'uld spacecraft that were poised to attack this world. Your exemplary courage and heroism reflect great credit upon yourself and the United States Air Force," I say, meaning each and every word as I pin the medals on their uniforms, decorating that royal blue surface with a dash of color. That's what they've done for this place, brought a little color into the sterile gray walls of this base.

"Thank you, sir," Carter replies.

"I'm only sorry that the accident made it impossible for the President himself to do this."

"I beg to differ, Sir. It's an honor to receive it from you," she says, her eyes sparkling with amusement and pride. We've got a special relationship, the captain and I. We've known each other for years, and I know I feel more than a little paternal towards her. She knows it, and I think she also knows I'm securely wrapped around her little finger. Oddly, I don't really mind. She and Jake aren't close, and I'm more than willing to stand in for him. In an odd way, I think she stands in for my own kids, the ones I get to see far too seldom, even now.

"Congratulations, Captain. I know Dr Jackson is expecting you on Abydos; you may ship out when ready," I tell her, hopefully breaking the moment before it gets all mushy.

"I'll be geared up and ready to go in ten minutes, Colonel," she says, either not seeing or deliberately ignoring Jack's mood. He's been pensive ever since he witnessed the reporter dying. I can't say that I blame him. It is never a good thing to watch a man die. Especially when his death is likely not an accident. It's too convenient to be that. Jack and I both know he was probably murdered. But there's nothing we can do about it now.

"Dismissed," I say, hoping to forestall the coming conversation. There will be time to deal with it later. Right now they have a job to do. Carter nods, then turns, leaving me alone with Jack. The colonel is standing there, his face blank but his eyes full of anger and self-disgust. "It was an accident," I tell him, knowing I'm probably wrong, but also that I'll likely never be able to prove otherwise.

"Yes, sir," he says, his tone telling me that he's merely playing along. He doesn't believe me. Then again, I don't believe me. But this isn't the time. He eventually looks down and leaves the room, his duty allowing him to push his doubts aside.

I watch him leave, then turn to stare out the window at the dormant gate below. Kinsey may be an asshole, but he wasn't far wrong when he called the Stargate a Pandora's box.

It's brought us happiness and fear, terror and joy, death and life. It's opened new horizons and revealed hidden dangers.  It's brought out the best in my officers, and the worst in others.

But just like with that fabled box, hope remains. And as long as we have that, anything is possible.

Fin


End file.
